Turn of the Page
by 0ViciousCabaret0
Summary: Alex's first night with the Handymen... A long lost summer day with Wallace (Worick) and Nicolas-a series of unconnected one shots. R&R, plox.
1. Wash It Away

After Alex is first brought to Benriya.

* * *

 _"You said we could take whatever we wanted, so this our trophy_ "

Worick's teasing words echoed in her ears as they walked. The rain had stopped as the three of them made their way back to the Handymens' office. Alex glanced over her shoulder at the stern face of the deaf man behind her. He was looking at her too, his eyes cold and unmoving. She shivered under the borrowed jacket she wore.

They reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the suite. Worick turned to her and smiled sheepishly. "Eh, it's not much to look at, but you should stay here for a while." Alex nodded solemnly. The silent presence to her rear unnerved her to no end. Worick climbed the stairs, unlocking the door and showing her in.

The collection of furniture in the office area looked worn but comfortable. She saw two doors to her right as well a doorway that seemed to lead downstairs to another level of the building. "You can sleep here, if you want," Worick indicated to the couch in the center of the room. "Or, if you think you'd be more comfortable, you can sleep with me." He raised one eyebrow, grinning, as he pointed to the second door.

Before she could respond, Alex heard a grunt from behind her. Worick looked over to his partner. She saw both of their hands moving in short, concise movements but could not comprehend their meaning. Whatever the outcome of their conversation, she heard Nicolas grunt once again, seeming somewhat displeased. He brushed past her, heading downstairs.

"Ignore him," Worick chimed. "He's wet and grumpy. If you'd like you can borrow something of mine to wear. Your dress looks pretty soaked." Alex stared at him for a moment before she could comprehend what he had said. Her thoughts were always so hazy.

"Ah... No, thank you. I have clothes of my own. I can get them later." She shrugged out of his jacket. "Thank you for letting me borrow this."

Worick smiled. "I may have been wearing it, but it's not mine. You can return it to Nico." He nodded his head toward the descending hallway. "I'm going to get changed. Feel free to take a shower. You must be freezing." And with that, he entered his bedroom and shut the door lightly behind him.

Alex stood in the entryway at the top of the stairs, uncertain as to what she should do. _"...take whatever we want, so this is our trophy..."_ Those words filled her mind, clouding her thoughts. Was she their woman now? She had seen them kill Barry. She knew she no longer had any other place to go. What did they expect her to do?

She clutched the jacket tightly to her. " _You don't get shit for free; You have to earn it,"_ she heard Barry's voice say. She only knew one way of earning her keep. She heard muffled sounds coming from Worick's room, then the soft protest of a mattress. He had closed his door, not wanting to be disturbed.

Alex looked at the jacket in her hands. He had told her to return it. She bit her lip and took an uneasy step toward the descending hallway. She thought of the powerful, violent man who lived down there. _Tag._ The word seemed to have some deeper meaning, but she couldn't recall what it was. She had seen his dog tags, taking him for a mercenary, which he obviously was. But something nagged at her about his tags. She knew he was dangerous, thinking of the police car he had rocked on its side with just one kick. _Tag._ The word sent a shiver down her spine.

" _...our trophy."_

She was no stranger to violence. She had seen people shot, maimed, tortured and killed. She had suffered Barry's blows and the rough hands of depraved men. But something about the silent Nicolas made her skin crawl.

" _...take whatever we want_..."

She was their property now, to do with as they pleased. Her eyes sought Worick's door once again. She could hear the gentle sounds of snoring. Trembling, Alex headed down the staircase that lead to the bottom floor. Her steps were tentative, each one heavier than the last.

As she neared the bottom she heard a low exhalation of breath. A faint creak, another exhalation. Creak, exhale. Alex reached the last stair and saw the source of the noise. Nicolas was laying with his back on the floor, legs strapped in to the seat of an old sofa chair. She could see his sword leaning against the opposite side of the chair. He paused in the middle of his next sit up to look at her.

His chest was bare and she could see the dozens of scars that littered his skin. His big hands came out from behind his head and he propped himself up, still staring at her with his black, calculating eyes.

"I-I wanted to return this," Alex stammered, holding out the jacket. Nicolas continued to watch her wordlessly. Had he not been able to read her lips? "And to say thank you,"

Nicolas grunted, but in acknowledgment or irritation she could not say. He stood and crossed to her, taking the jacket she had folded over her arm. With him so close, she realized they were almost the same height. Neither of them moved.

"Th-thank you-" Alex reached for him, finding his belt. Nicolas started with genuine surprise as he felt her hand working on his buckle. He quickly dropped the coat in his arms and grabbed her hands. Alex looked up at the sudden pressure on her wrists. When had she closed her eyes?

A low whimper escaped her unwillingly as she waited for him to act. He held her hands tightly, the grip almost painful. The tears welling in her eyes and the slight tremble of her lips told him all he needed to know. Nicolas released her, stepping back sharply and picking up his fallen jacket. He then pointed to another door on the other side of the room.

Alex followed his direction, stepping up to the door. When she looked, Nicolas was still on the other side of the room, watching her. She pushed open the door of what she thought was his bedroom. Alex was very surprised to instead find a cramped bathroom, a neat set of clean towels on the counter.

Turning again, Alex looked at the deaf man. "TAke a SHOWer. You'RE gOIng to STink uP the plAce," he said with some effort, then turned to go back upstairs.

Alex watched the strange, intense man climb the stairs until he was out of sight. She then entered the bathroom and turned on the taps.

* * *

I have a few ideas insofar as one-shots, primarily involving Alex, Nicolas and Worick. If you have any requests send me a message. Thank you for reading!


	2. Underneath

Story takes place when both Nicolas and Worick (Wallace) are young, still living at the Arcangelo estate. In the interim six months between the Nicolas arriving and Wallace purchasing him.

* * *

The silence of his bodyguard both unnerved and assured him. Wallace held the open book in his hands, not really reading it but using it as a tool to disguise his sidelong glances. The smaller boy sat a few feet away from him on the grass, his eyes scanning the horizon. Wallace saw a new bruise on his forearm and what looked to be a burn of some kind behind his ear.

Snapping the book shut, the blonde boy stood and stretched. Sensing a disturbance, Nicolas turned to look at his young master. "It's hot," Wallace stated. The sun was reaching its apex, casting harsh sunlight on the verdant grounds. "I need to cool off.

Wallace strode away without another look at his armed companion. Nicolas gathered up his sword and followed after him a few paces behind. They were about half way across the back garden when Wallace huffed and stopped, causing Nicolas to stop as well. "I'm tired of you trailing me like a lost puppy." Wallace pointed at the silent boy. "Stand and walk next to me until we get where we're going." Nicolas nodded and obeyed. Looking satisfied, the older boy set off again, his lanky shadow now by his side.

It didn't take long to reach the rear perimeter fence of the Arcangelo estate. Near the far East corner was a live oak tree, its branches low and plentiful. Wallace threw his book on the ground at the base of the tree and began to climb. The dark haired boy watched him silently from the ground until he realized what he was doing. With one leg extended, Wallace began his descent on the branches opposite Nicolas, over the fence.

"MaSter WALLace," he began, rounding the tree so he could see the blonde boy. "DAngeRous.

"Nonsense!" Came the reply. "I've done this dozens of times. What are you doing? Aren't you supposed to go where ever I go?" Wallace let go of the final branch and landed softly on the other side of the fence. He watched Nicolas. "Well?"

Taking a step back, the small boy shot in to the air, touched one branch, then came down beside his master. Wallace was impressed but didn't let it show. "Come on, let's go before they find out we've gone." Nicolas hurried to keep in step with the older boy.

The woods behind the estate had been cut back closest to the fence. The further they roamed from the grounds the thicker trees and underbrush became. Wallace picked his way carefully through the thickets and entangling roots, his silent companion matching his every step. They found a game trail and followed that for a while until Wallace put up a hand to stop their progression.

"MaSter?" The smaller boy looked up to see a serene look on his master's face.

"I hear it." Nicolas saw the words form on the blonde's lips. "We are almost there." They moved a little faster now, Wallace clearly having direction. As they went, Nicolas felt a slight change in the atmosphere. A pleasant smell struck his nose and he noticed a small tremor running through the earth itself.

"Here we are!" The boys came out in to a sizable clearing. To their right loomed a rock face, about fifteen feet high. A crisp waterfall spilled over the ledge and collected in deep, clear basin. "The water is almost always cold but it is great when it's hot out like today." Wallace began removing his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on a sun baked rock. Nicolas stood motionlessly beside him, clutching his sword.

When Wallace had gotten down to his undershirt and boxers, he looked at the smaller boy in exasperation. "You can go in the water, too. Take off your clothes." Nicolas put down his weapon and moved to comply. In a moment, his clothes were strewn on the leafy floor of the embankment and he stood wearing nothing but his tags and underwear.

Wallace was wading in the water, trying to nerve himself for a full body dip when he was joined by his bodyguard artlessly splashing towards him. "I'm going to jump in." The blonde boy pointed at a high, natural shelf that protruded from the rock face about six feet above the ground. "You can climb that-" Wallace looked at the younger boy, his words dying in his throat.

Nicolas's body was covered in scars, bruises and burns, all in varying stages of healing. Under his ribs there was an old, angry scab that looked like it could've come from a knife. There were impressions of boot and heel scuffs on his stomach and legs. On his lower back just above his waistband there were unmistakable signs of scratches from a human hand.

In turn, Nicolas studied his master's body. He had never seen someone near his age in a state of undress. He realized now how thin his own body was, his shoulder and rib bones stark against his skin. He could see the blonde boy looking at him but he could not read the look on his face.

Wallace had his own gallery of wounds. A deep purple mark marred his white belly: the heavy strike of a fist. The backs of his legs and flanks had small, thin marks crisscrossing endlessly, some of them were still pink and new. A few other bruises in tender areas told Nicolas a story he already knew.

"Race you to the top!" Wallace shouted, breaking away from his companion. Nicolas started, then followed his young master up the back side of a nearby boulder, hopping on to the shelf above the water. "Aim for the middle." Wallace indicated the deepest part of the pool, then took a running leap off the ledge. Nicolas wasted no time running after him, trying to remain by his side. Wallace felt the cold plunge of water envelope home, taking his breath away momentarily until he heard another splash very close to himself. He broke through the surface in time to see the dark head of Nicolas sink beneath the water. "Idiot, you almost landed on top of me," the blonde said, knowing full well he wouldn't be heard. After a moment, Wallace realized that the small frame of his bodyguard was no where to be seen.

Taking a deep breath, Wallace dove to the bottom of the basin. He had only touched the ground here once, and it had been a much dryer year and not nearly as deep as disturbances in the water made it difficult to see. Wallace kicked fiercely, arms spread out in search of the younger boy. His hand grazed something hard but yielding and he grasped it firmly. With all his strength he kicked off the bottom of the basin, craning towards the nearest bank. With a sizable effort, both boys came sputtering up on to the shore. Wallace made sure the smaller boy was breathing before collapsing in the mud.

"Why... didn't you tell me... you couldn't swim?" Wallace wheezed between breaths. Nicolas missed his question, preoccupied with clearing the water from his lungs. When he no longer felt a burbling in his chest, he sat down next to his master.

"THanK yoU," Nicolas said.

"Don't mention it. Well, I guess that's just one more thing I have to teach you." Wallace sighed then stood. He rinsed off by wading in the water one last time before getting out. Nicolas followed suit.

The boys began to dress, their wounds once again covered by the clothes, their hair wet and their teeth chattering.

"Let's go, before it gets too late," Wallace instructed, then set off in the direction they had come. Nicolas followed a few steps behind him.


	3. A Gentle Hand

Nicolas takes a job and is wounded. Alex helps him.

* * *

Nicolas braced himself against the stone wall outside of Dr. Theo's office. Worick had warned him not to take a job for the next few days. Dr. Theo and Nina were doing circuit work in the East side and wouldn't be at their office for more than a few hours a day. He grinned bitterly, looking down at his gored left thigh.

It had been a simple security job: monitor the delivery of a few guns, ensure both parties were satisfied, and go home. He hadn't bothered telling Worick, who wouldn't even notice him gone as he was busy with clients. And the woman...

He grimaced, clutching his leg. The uppers were starting to wear off. He hadn't thought he would even need them, until that bastard showed up. He was a member of the Guild, just a tool for hire. Nicolas had had seen him a few times around the city but had never faced off with him until today. He didn't get a chance to see his tags until it was too late and the interloper's dagger was buried in his thigh.

Nicolas pushed off the office wall and headed down the street, choosing to ignore the crimson trail he left behind. The apartment was just a few blocks away.

* * *

Alex made her way down to the bottom level of the building, listening for any sound of Nicolas. When she saw his chair was empty she was somewhat relieved, grateful that she didn't have to endure his intense gaze. She crossed to the bathroom on the other side of the kitchen and shut the door firmly behind her.

She didn't know where the Twilight had gone but she knew she didn't have to concern herself with Worick. He had mentioned that he had four "appointments" today and would be home late. Alex and Nicolas had the next few days off, according to him.

Alex turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature. When it was hot enough she disrobed and got in, savoring the warmth.

The stoic Twilight made her uneasy. His sharp smile, his inhuman speed, his callousness and his readiness to kill. She had seen those powerful hands break bones and sunder flesh... But they had also embraced and steadied her in Connie's shop. She had felt the icy breath of Barry on her nape and her hands had trembled as the room started spinning.

Then he placed his hands on hers. His well muscled arms encircled her, stilling her quaking.

Alex turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. She was wringing her hair when she heard a distinct _thump_ somewhere outside the bathroom door. She tightened the towel around her and listened. A moment later something heavy hit the door, rattling it in its frame.

"I'm almost done," she blurted, belatedly realizing that if it was Nicolas he wouldn't hear her. Alex was greeted by silence. There was no further movement outside the door. She reached for the door, intending to peek out and investigate, but the moment she twisted the doorknob the huddled figure of Nicolas fell in to the room.

He hadn't expected her to be there. Nicolas had made his way up the stairs in to the apartment, down the interior stairs and across the living room, his leg ablaze with pain. He had rested a moment against the bathroom door, glad to be in the relative safety of the sub level, when the it had opened unexpectedly behind him.

He glared up at the dark skinned woman who had frozen at the sight of him. Tightening his hand on his leg Nicolas pulled himself up to lean against the sink. He looked at her, then jerked his head sharply toward the door. She didn't move. "OUt," he commanded. Again, she remained motionless. He grunted in frustration, the pain making him irritable. He wanted her gone.

"I can help," she said, her face conveying her distress. Nicolas grunted in dismissal and jerked his head toward the door again. "No, please." Alex hurried to the small cupboard the the left of the sink and grabbed the well used first aid kit there. When she stepped up to him, he tensed, causing pain to rip through him. Her presence always set him on edge.

"GO awAY," Nicolas snarled. She balked, but only for a heartbeat. Then her hands were on his wrist, pulling him to sit on the lid of the toilet. He complied reluctantly, his wound flaring. Once he was seated Alex knelt and touched the hand Nicolas had clamped on his leg. Pinning her with a cold look, he removed it, exposing the rent flesh to the open air. He saw her inhale sharply at the sight of the blood that pooled there.

Alex moved without another thought. She flipped open the kit and began preparing the tourniquet. Nicolas watched her solemnly as she worked. He winced as she peeled and cut away his blood soaked trouser leg. She then needed his help to remove them entirely, careful not to brush his wound. He sat there in a soiled shirt and underpants, looking at her under a dark brow.

Her hands were small but deft, applying the tourniquet and tightening the pressure to stop the blood flow. She then took her time cleaning and sanitizing the jagged skin. The liniment stung harshly as she worked up his thigh. When she was done she bound his leg with gauze.

When Alex began to rise Nicolas grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop. Her blue eyes widened. He didn't say anything, only looked at her for a long moment, his eyes studying her face. Then he stood, dropped her hand and brushed past her in to the kitchen.

She lingered for a moment, then shut the door and got dressed.


End file.
